


The Next One

by Kazimir



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Drunken Shenanigans, First Meetings, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kazimir/pseuds/Kazimir
Summary: Three weeks after the end of humanity was narrowly avoided, you, the only employee in Aziraphale's little antique book shop, are carrying on business as usual, non the wiser to all that had transpired. Your employer's long time friend pays an unexpected visit and insists that you join them for a drink. Crowley has grown even more curious about humans after risking his existence to save them.
Relationships: Aziraphale (Good Omens)/Reader, Crowley (Good Omens)/Reader
Kudos: 65





	The Next One

**Author's Note:**

> Back to writing after another months-long hiatus, with a new obsession!  
> This was mostly meant to get me back into the swing of things, and to get some practice properly characterizing Aziraphale and Crowley, so any input is greatly appreciated.  
> This may be left as a oneshot with another story I've been thinking of being a loosely connected sequel, or I just might add more chapters to this as I go.

The lock clicked as you turned the key of the grand old bookshop located on the corner of the busy London street. Mr. Fell, or A. Z. Fell, who’s never told you what the “A” or the “Z” stand for, and who avoids eye contact and changes the topic when you ask, always has you work Sunday morning. He often keeps the store closed on Sundays, so there’s no real need for you, but the time that you spend with Mr. Fell while you just barely work has always felt _special_ , in such a way where you weren't inclined to question his generosity.

You walked through the door of the store that you had come to love dearly, unable to supress a little smile as you called for Mr. Fell. No matter how early you arrived or how late you stayed, he would always be there, never a sign of weariness, his smile bright, his eccentric vintage outfit the same as any other day, his soft, faintly flowery scent never fading.

"I'm here in the back room, dear" Mr. Fell's familiar gentle voice called from afar. You locked the door behind you before heading to the cozy little office in the back of the store to greet your employer. You were welcomed by a bright smile as you joined him in the room, taking a seat at a little table, a cup of tea poured for you before a word was even exchanged. You inquired about the work you would be doing after exchanging your usual pleasantries, though you already had a good idea based on previous experience. “Well, let’s see,” Mr. Fell crossed his arms thoughtfully, “Ah! I believe the… bible misprint collection needs dusting again… the foyer should be swept, if you could…” 

A loud knock interrupted the short list of simple tasks that you dawdled through each Sunday between cups of tea and advice sessions with the somehow equally wholesome and wise man. “I’m terribly sorry, but we’re closed!” Mr. Fell called from his seat.

“Don’t care.” Replied a casual voice only a second later as a lanky red-haired man sauntered through the doorway of the backroom, frightening you out of your seat. You caught a look of reproachfulness from Mr. Fell towards the new man. “Oh.” He grumbled as his sunglass-veiled gaze fell upon you. You stayed silent, forgetting your manners as you checked out towards the front of the shop to see that the front door was indeed closed and seemingly locked, just as you had left it. You looked back up towards the willowy man inquisitively, and with a strange intuitive feeling of distrust. “I have a key” he offered in an innocent tone, though he smiled wickedly, producing a key identical to your own from his pocket.

“Right.” You replied simply as you took your seat once more, feeling more than a little foolish, but still confused and strangely out of your depth, all of a sudden. Mr. Fell cleared his throat impatiently before he introduced you formally to the new guest.

“And my dear, this is…” There was a short pause as he seemed to choose his words. “Anthony Crowley. A longtime friend of mine.” The sweet smile you had always known him to wear finally replaced his tense, pensive expression.

“Anthony _J._ Crowley.” Mr. Crowley snippily corrected.

“Yes, that’s right.” Mr. Fell muttered apologetically. The tension of the abrupt introduction settled into a stagnant, uncomfortable silence as both men exchanged a glance between themselves, and then watched you expectantly, Mr. Fell looking uneasy, Mr. Crowley seeming curious and bemused.

"Maybe I should get to work." You finally offered.

"Right. Jolly good." The man seated across from you hastily agreed. You rose from your seat to leave, but the tall figure of Anthony J. Crowley moved to block the doorway

_"Work?_ Aziraphale, it's a _Sunday_ and the store's closed for G-" He paused. "For S-" He looked down to you and grimaced. "For _humanity's_ sake." His tone switched from exaggerated outrage to amused taunting. "Is that what you do now? Make people work on Sundays? I always knew you were a tyrant."

"Goodness!" Huffed Aziraphale. "If you're so insistent on the company of a human today- a person- a second person, in addition to myself of course, then you can just say so. And there's no need to bring the sanctity of Sunday into this" He added bitterly. "You know very well that I haven't had contact with heaven for weeks now, since…" He trailed off mysteriously. Aziraphale, as you now knew him, always did seem like the religious sort, now that you thought about it. You did vaguely recollect him seeming terribly bothered a few weeks ago, and he was scarcely at the store for days on end - it was around the time you had a horrible dream about seeing that the store had burned down, in fact. But the next day when you went in, Aziraphale seemed in higher spirits than ever, greeting you with a warm hug and making you do no work at all that day. Perhaps he had read the wrong book and had some sort of turbulent spiritual awakening. You had heard of that happening to people before.

"I came to relax on this beautiful _Sunday_ with my best friend. I just wanted some company, is all. The more the merrier, as far as I'm concerned" He addressed you as he nudged you back from the doorway. "Have a seat, sweetheart." He walked to a corner of the office and pulled a bottle of whiskey from a tall shelf "Now, how about a drink?"

"Absolutely not. Drinking first thing in the morning is a horrible habit to give to a person, Crowley."

"Nonsense." Replied Crowley simply as he poured you a glass that was far too full as Aziraphale fussed. You left your glass untouched, and Aziraphale continued to fuss while his own was poured. Finally, Crowley raised his own glass for a toast, staring at the man beside him with a smile. Some seconds passed. And then some more. After what may have been the longest minute of your life, Aziraphale relented with a heavy, dramatic sigh, and an apologetic look towards you. Following his lead, you went on sipping your drink with the two men in the cozy little room as the sun finished rising over London outside.

As the time passed, and minutes turned into progressively hazier hours, the two men spoke on and on, Aziraphale courteously seeking your input or coaxing stories out of you, Crowley inquiring about more personal matters and enjoying prodding you with sarcasm. Of course, at some point the conversation descended deeper and deeper into nonsense.

"But how much have you really _thought_ about dolphins, Angel?" Crowley addressed Aziraphale, slurring his words and scarcely seeming to even understand himself anymore. Boisterousness flowing through your bloodstream at about 0.13g/100mL, you promptly interrupted.

"Angel?" You furrowed your brows in deep thought, staring into the eyes of your wise, benevolent, patient boss. He looked back at you apprehensively. Your intent gaze shifted towards Crowley, who frowned at you and snapped his fingers. It seemed almost like both men cringed in unison for a moment, before sitting up straighter and more alert than they were just moments ago. Not that you were in much of a condition to notice this. Looking back at Mr. Fell, you smiled sincerely, and rambled on about how if anyone could ever be compared to an angel, it would be him, detailing much more of your affections for him than you would have cared to in any sort of sober state as he blushed and tittered at your flattery, Crowley groaning beside you all the while. Of course, sweet as your mood was, you quietly assured him that despite not knowing him well yet, you very much enjoyed his company as well.

A scoff was all that you got in response, or at least all that you heard, as your head lazily lowered to the table below you. It felt softer than it looked. You closed your eyes for just a moment before you would resume your conversations, resting from the exhilaration of your thoughts and feelings flowing freely and unfiltered to your boss and a stranger for the past couple hours. Sleep overtook you almost instantly.


End file.
